


Solivagant

by PopcornDude



Category: Spies In Disguise (2019)
Genre: AU, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, This fic isn't shippy, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23038588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PopcornDude/pseuds/PopcornDude
Summary: Age seventeen. On the brink of adulthood, yet too far out of reach to get a proper taste of it. In about a few months, the chains keeping him from flying free would crumble to nothing but dust, and the prison that is confining him would fall before him. Age seventeen, he’s nothing but a baby bird, but he’s ready to spread his wings, and he has been ready for a long time.If only somebody could have given him a warning that flying the first time could mean falling too.
Relationships: Killian & Walter Beckett
Comments: 7
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where Walter has to stay with his dad, and where it's hard for flowers to grow around weeds.

Age seventeen. On the brink of adulthood, yet too far out of reach to get a proper taste of it. In about a few months, the chains keeping him from flying free would crumble to nothing but dust, and the prison that is confining him would fall before him. Age seventeen, he’s nothing but a baby bird, but he’s ready to spread his wings, and he has been ready for a long time.

Swinging his backpack over his shoulder, he sneaks across the dark hall, stealthy, silently. He barely breaks a sweat, every step is calculated to perfection, he knows every place the floor creaks in the small apartment.

A faint sound could be heard traveling through the small apartment, the waves spreading around the living room. It only caused the young man to tread more carefully on the grounds that were barely what a home should feel like. He grabs the worn-down metal handle, letting the iciness of the material rest inside his warm hand with little hesitance, but it’s there within him, and yet he takes a deep breath and pushes it aside. He’s out of the door faster than the blink of an eye.

The streets are dark. Light from a few streetlamps illuminates the pavement he’s strolling down, but the dark is the dominating counterpart in the neighborhood, undeniably making Walter’s skin crawl from what could be hidden in it, to his lack of knowledge. Naturally, he’s walking fast, nearly jogging, and he maybe would be if his legs didn’t feel as numb with the weakness he feels deep inside his heart, but he keeps walking, even if he’s unable to jog.

The seventeen-year-old dives into an alley that leads to a place far away from the streets he doesn’t know at all and opens the gates to a world he’s grown more or less familiar with the past year. An abandoned building comes into his view, windows smashed, walls of bricks damaged and worn, the roof of the four-story apartment looking as if it could crash through its own ceiling any time. He wanders into the building, and it’s only now that his muscles begin to loosen up as he enters a space that is entirely his own kingdom.

He flips a switch, and a dull light from the ceiling comes to life, vibrant with a yellowish color that gives a strange comfort to the young scientist. He faintly hears a sound coming from the room next to him, and the corners of his mouth can’t help but pull upwards as he wanders into the room. He strolls over to a dusty wooden desk in the corner, the almost quiet flapping of wings ringing louder and louder by each step he takes, until he peeks down at a small cardboard box, the inside containing a small creature tangled up in the scarf he bought at Walmart last winter.

“Hey, Lovey, you’re looking good,” he coos softly as he gently scoops the baby pigeon into his hands. She nuzzles into his hand which only urges the teen to chuckle. He flips her gently to her side which reveals her wing to be wrapped in a tight piece of cloth, that Walter had ripped from his shirt weeks ago, to support the clearly damaged wing.

“You’re a lot more lively compared to the last time, so I think we can both assume that the wing is healing properly,” he smiles, and gently puts her back into the box. His body falls into slightly dusty office chair by the desk, his muscles aching despite his youth and he feels his eyes drop more heavily due to the insomniac nights he’s been trapped in.

Walter squints down at the laptop in front of him, before letting out a sigh filled with dread as he barely musters the strength to reach out and open it. “Now, let’s see what customers we have tonight,” the boy yawns, opening files and closing them, an endless stream of coding working to get the young scientist across the internet.

He cracks his knuckles and leans closer to the device. “Maybe an old lady who needs a new remote… or some poor guy who destroyed a part in their vacuum cleaner, some of the same usual.”

He finds a site, and jumps into it, having reached his final destination, but before he can scroll through the couple of requests laying before him, his phone vibrates and rings inside his pocket. He reaches down for it and barely gives the number a glance before putting the speaker close to his ear.

“This is Walter Beckett, how can I help you?”

_“Ahh Walter! My dude, it’s been a while, like, a whole week actually. You’re usually on fire with work, and when I mean on fire, I mean you don’t take vacations. What’s kept you waiting my man?”_

A yawn breaks through on Walter’s end. “I was injured. I slipped and fell down the stairs.”

 _“Man, how clumsy can someone be,”_ the man’s laugh on the other end rings loudly into Walter’s ear, almost making the teen wince away from the phone.

“I can’t really see a lot of customers on my page here, Sam.”

_“Alright, I’m sorry for laughing, and the lack of customers, my marketing and networking skills hasn’t been exactly top notch lately, but it doesn’t really help when you raise the price like this, it’s too expensive and it just makes people buy the actual spare parts companies sell.”_

“If I have to pay you to get customers, I actually need to benefit from what I earn instead of losing more than I earn. If I was an actual company, I’d be on my way to bankruptcy,” he hisses out, frustration dancing on the edge of his tone until his sighs in defeat and lets his cold hand run through his hair.

“Look I- I need to, uhm to move out as fast as possible, I really need the money, alright? And this pays more than delivering pizza or working as a cashier. So, I’ll raise your payment to, let’s say, six percent more maximum, as long as you get me more customers, please?”

_“Yeah, so, I actually do have something up my sleeve, which is what I wanted to talk with you about in the first place, I’ll still take the extra money of course, but I do have a customer who’ll pay a lot of money for some specific things. You probably won’t find them on your little website, as they said they wanted to remain anonymous.”_

The teen leans back in the chair, his focus lost as he stares past the screen in front of him.

“How much money are we talking about?”

_“Uhm, I’m pretty sure he said above a thousand? Or somewhere near that, and you need to give me a lot of credit for this because I really exaggerated your skills here, so if you take the job, I need you to create perfection itself.”_

“A thousand?!” he almost yells at the top of his lungs. “Well, what’s the job?!”

_“A brass cartridge case that can hold the primer and the propellent for a firearm.”_

A heavy stone drops within Walter’s stomach. “A… A firearm? Isn’t that illegal?”

_“Listen kid, it’s not like you’re a saint selling spare parts in the names of other companies, alright? You said you wanted a lot of money, and fast, this is the way to go.”_

“Well- yeah, but a remote doesn’t _kill_ people.”

_“A remote to twenty-five bucks doesn’t.”_

“What does that even mean? I- okay, when is the deadline?”

 _“Hold on, I marked it in my calendar,”_ a scramble on the other end follows by a string of silence. “ _Ah, he wants it done by next Friday.”_

“Next Friday?! I don’t even know how to make a case like that in the first place!”

He feels dizzy, his heart acting as if he had run a mile in the past five minutes. He’s breathless as a tingle of ice runs down his spine and sweat forms on the surface of his neck. If he says yes, he knows he’ll be taking a step towards something that he’ll be unable to turn his back to again. He doesn’t dare tell himself what that ‘something’ could be.

_“It’s not as if you’d be killing anybody, I mean, obviously he needs it because he wants to shoot someone or something, but it’s not like you can control his actions. You just make the parts.”_

You just make the parts.

Is he shaking? He’s not completely aware. He could be, he supposes, at least he knows he’s felt like this before. Disorientation, dizziness, hyperventilation, classic signs of his anxiety peaking and making him spiral down into panic. His hand clamps around the arm of the chair, trying to find the slightest of comfort from feeling the cheap material on the surface of his skin.

“I will- I’ll call you back later. I need some time to think this over,” he whispers the last part, he’s barely able to squeeze it out on a wheeze, and then he hangs up without anything further to say.

He feeds Lovey some gluten free crumbs, and then he leaves the building, not feeling well enough to attend to his other customers.

He walks back to his home, with much slower steps than when he was leaving it. Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out...

Yet, it doesn’t help. If anything, his senses only become much more sensitive to every sound in the darkness.

Distressed, he sneaks into his room quiet as a mouse. He hasn’t been discovered it seems, as the apartment has remained dark and the snoring seems to have been constant in his absence. He creeps into his own room without leaving any sort of trace of his existence, and when his back hits the cold covers on his bed, he knows this’ll be another sleepless night.

Everything is so cold.


	2. Chapter 2

_She looks like a nice lady, in many ways, Walter admits. She reminds him of his mom. She hands him a cup of warm chocolate, with a couple of marshmallows added to sweeten the bitter aftertaste of dark cocoa. He has always preferred it to be cold, he finds that it’s less bitter and much more refreshing that way, but the nice lady made it for him and he doesn’t want to be rude, so he drinks in silence as she asks him questions he can’t answer._

_“Do you have any other family members?” she asks with a gentle smile painted across her face. Walter doesn’t give her as much as a glance as he whispers with a tired voice, “I don’t know, I don’t think so.”_

_He repeats those words a lot, like a broken record. He doesn’t know what else to say, he doesn’t have anything else to tell. Yet, she doesn’t stop asking questions. She digs and digs for answers, and eventually all Walter can focus on is her blue jeans, and how his mom has a pair that looks exactly alike, like two feathers from the same bird._

_He misses his mom already._

.

He’s not just anxious, he’s sure his heart is moments away from jumping out of his chest. A sinking feeling creeps into his stomach with every ticking minute he waits. His fingers sweat with dread slithering throughout every inch of his skinny figure, and he has to gently place the case down to wave his hands around in attempt to dry off the sweat. He is in fact, terrified.

The doors to the abandoned warehouse open and Walter evidently stiffen. He tries to breathe like the internet has learned he should in situations where he’s on the brink of full-blown panic. The teen has absolutely no clue if it’s working when all he can focus on, is the echoing steps of fancy, leather shoes, walking closer and closer to him. His heart is hammering all the way up in his throat as five men in fancy clothes stand before him, one in particular standing out in the center, tattoos hugging his neck tightly and from elbows down to wrists from what Walter can make out, and a dark blazer rolled up at the sleeves; defining a clear muscular body hidden underneath.

He doesn’t know what to say, what should he say? He suddenly misses the days where he sold remotes and other junk to the old ladies next door, but he’s here now, and there’s no looking back from this.

He hands the case over to the muscular man with shaking arms. He attempts to seek comfort by pointing his gaze at the man’s eyes, to find the slightest bit of humanity that could bring them down to the same level as just two human beings without any extra baggage. Yet, his eyes are sheltered by dark, expensive at the seams, sunglasses, hiding his identity in the shadows and cuts off any potential comfort Walter seeks.

One of the others step up to hold the case as the tattooed stranger opens it to inspect the equipment. Walter feels the situation tense incredibly more whilst the man silently looks over the carefully crafted goods.

Walter is given his money in a plastic bag and by the time the strangers are gone, he has fallen to his knees, legs shaking too much to carry him as the feeling of dread washes over him like heavy rain.

.

_“Walter- no, Walter don’t hang up on me, man- you’d understand it better if you tried to see it from my point of view.”_

“See it from your- Sam, I’ve said this a thousand times now, I’m not going to do more of- of whatever _this is_!” Walter bites almost aggressively into his sandwich. His legs have become cold from sitting too long on the pavement behind the school, but it’s the only space he can gather his thoughts and have complete privacy among the hundreds of noisy students wandering through lunch.

“Selling USBs and computer parts is far different from- doing whatever this is- building weapons- becoming a- a _criminal!_ ”

_“Oh please, you’re acting as if you killed somebody.”_

“I could have!? I practically pulled the trigger by making that brass cartridge!” the teen bites out. He tries to swallow the sandwich down, but it tastes sour on his tongue and glides down slowly. “Yakuza kills people, Sam! And torture people too!”

_“I have trouble believing he’d be from the Yakuza, why would someone like that notice a nobody like you and need a spare part for a single firearm-“_

“Yakuza, gangsters, thugs, whatever. They all practically do most of the same things, if anything, if it’s just a random gang group then they’ll definitely use it for something sinister without thinking much about it.”

_“Hey, aren’t you the guy who always lectures others on how we shouldn’t judge people because there’s no bad or good people, just people?”_

Walter falls quiet, he can only bite the inner flesh of his cheek as he thinks.

_“Look at all that money you got too. That’s what you wanted, and frankly, I can’t say I’m disappointed with my share either.”_

It was what he wanted. He couldn’t lie and tell himself otherwise. The teen glares at the ground, the want to say a million things bursting in his heart, but his lips didn’t move to form a single word.

_“All I’m saying is, if you started to broaden your horizon a little more than to just USBs and computer parts, you’d reach your goal much faster. You told me yourself that you’re a scientist. It must be so boring fiddling around with batteries and whatnot at this point. Don’t you actually want to create things?”_

“You mean create weapons?” Walter huffs in the flattest voice he can muster.

_“I have to be brutally honest with you, Walter, selling spare parts for electronics and whatever you do, won’t get you the money you need, at least not if you want to move out in the near future. I’m just trying to help you man; I have several people interested in getting some stuff done for lots of cash. Once one person knows in the underground what you do, the word spreads far and wide, especially if people like what you do.”_

“I’m not- listen, can we not talk about this? I’ve already lost my appetite, and I’m not really in the mood to be persuaded to join the dark side or whatever you’re going on about.”

“ _This isn’t Star Wars, nerd. Text me if anything comes up, otherwise, I’ll call you if another old man needs a new iPhone charger for cheap money, hasta la vista.”_

A beep follows and hence pure silence. Walter doesn’t get up for a long time after that.

.

_“Please come out from under the bed, Walter, I’m sure he’s a very nice man,” her gentle voice attempts to soothe him, and deep down it works, he wants nothing more to just believe her, that after what he’s been through for the past year, there’s still good in people, that people can still be good despite what they have taken from him with force._

_“I just want to go home…” he whispers, and creeps further into the corner, as far away from the world as he can possibly get._

_Nothing but silence passes between them, lasting what felt like solid minutes turning into hours upon hours. Walter could hear a faint rustling, and the woman seemed to have crawled into the bed above him. Specks of fine dust floated in the air, only visible for a short while as the sun creaks through the blue curtains in the bedroom._

_“You know, Walter… home isn’t a specific place,” she states, her voice nothing but a mere careful whisper, but Walter hears her voice loud and clear, unable to shut it out like he thinks he wants to._

_“Home is a feeling, that… only you can create for yourself, anywhere you want. It’s a superpower within you, that nobody can take away from you.”_

_Walter sniffs quietly. “Like a superhero?”_

_A huff of laughter fills the room for a short second, followed by a chuckle that is as warm as a cup of warm chocolate. It helps the young boy loosen up a little, and only then could he feel how tense he had been the past hour._

_“Exactly like a superhero,” she confirms, her soothing voice prompting Walter to slowly shift his knees around, and to begin crawling out from the narrow space sandwiched between the icy, dusty floor, and the bottom of the bed where his curly hair keeps brushing up against the soft mattress._

_The lady only watched as Walter crawled out from underneath the bed and jumped on top of the white sheets next to her. They both shared a moment of eye contact and smiles until she reached out to ruffle the young scientist’s hair around and caused a giggle to break out from his throat. Something Walter himself hadn’t heard from himself in quite a while._

_They lean away from each other after a little while of lighthearted fun, but the lady’s hand remained comfortingly on the boy’s shoulder as her gaze focuses down upon him with a small smile. “I know you miss your bed and your mom, Walter, but he’s your_ father _. Everything’s going to work out perfectly fine, I can promise you that,” she assures._

_Walter’s smile falters slightly. He feels the pang of hurt try to carve itself into his head and heart, hurt because he’s scared, and he doesn’t have any clue whatsoever what’ll happen next. He’s hurt because he doesn’t have his mom to hug away his fears and insecurities anymore, that’s what everyone around him claims, and he still feels the deep desire to deny the truth of all the facts that have been displayed before him the past year._

_He suddenly feels the lady shift his chin upwards to face her, not having noticed that he had shied away from her eyes._

_“You can do this, Walter Beckett. You’ll probably not feel at home at first, you’ll feel strange and out of place, but eventually, it’ll become home if you allow it, and that man will help you along the way.”_

He tosses a coin into the air of the black night. It flips before landing back in his hand, calculated carefully by the laws of physics, and Walter repeats the meaningless action over and over. It doesn’t give him the slightest bit of comfort, but it entertains the restless spirit within him.

He’s used to the feeling of creeping anxiety swirling in his abdomen by now, and it becomes easier to handle, he’s had years of experience to master that sort of control after all.

“Will help you… along the way…” Walter mutters, his tone giving off a shade of emptiness that goes unnoticed by the whole world surrounding him.

He strolls down the streets of the neighborhood he’s all too familiar with and enters the building to his residence. His mind slowly fades to an area of the back in his head as his body moves up the stairs to the apartment bearing his name on the front door.

A clammy hand comes to rest on the handle with a shaking hesitance running through his veins. Fingers trembling slightly, he gently presses down and softly pushes away from his skinny body.

The door is unlocked. That only means one thing, Walter breathes in shakily.

The door is pushed further away from him, and the young scientist enters the cold room with great care to be as silent as the dead, and almost walks on his toes into the apartment.

The lights are on. Walter instantly picks up the burning scent of alcohol flooding the small space, it almost makes his eyes water, though, he’s surprised deep down that he’s still not used to the smell after such a long time.

Silently closing the door with as much grace as he can muster, he continues on and tip toes down the narrow hall, his sneakers not even causing the usual creaking noises like they do at all other times.

His luck, however, slips up before it was ever present.

Walter is almost at his room, when the bathroom door behind him opens up. The door creaks, and Walter forgets how to breathe.

“Walter, is that you?”

The teenager’s heart drums against the walls of his ribcage, and while his mind screams to not move a muscle in pure fear and cowardice, his body slowly turns around to face the voice.

To face his father.

“Hey, dad…” his voice trembles lightly. His gaze is cast downwards as he doesn’t have the courage nor the energy to face his father.

His hands shake, but in the midst of the chaos raging inside of him, he tightens them into fists. Whether or not that’s supposed to make him feel more confident, even he doesn’t know for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, this took way longer to post than I wanted it to. I've got plan though, just wait...

**Author's Note:**

> I had this discussion with a friend since we're both angst lovers, and we talked about what if Walter had a dad who was divorced from his mom, and it was decided he should stay with him instead of going to an orphanage. Well, now it's time to bring that idea to life. Please note that this story starts years before the actual event of the Spies in Disguise movie.


End file.
